


when the snow comes dancing

by baby_babeyy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby_babeyy/pseuds/baby_babeyy
Summary: Jon and Tormund go ice skating





	when the snow comes dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt from joongeelovesgd :  
> Established Jonmund ice skating? So the free folk arrive at a frozen lake and stay there in an old settlement, and tormund finds old skates and asks jon if he wants to go have some fun on the lake, and wants to impress jon with his skill Little does he know , jon grew up ice skating in winterfell and is insanely good at it They attempt ice dancing together but collapse in a heap when they mess up a lift and then they kiss
> 
> send me prompts on tumblr, I'm baby-babeyy <3

They’ve been staying at the lake for 3 days when Tormund first finds the skates squirrelled away in the corner of some long abandoned hut. He grins when he finds them and takes off running back to the tents they've been staying in until they can set themselves up properly. He spot’s Jon a mile off, those bouncy curls and the giant direwolf by his side like a beacon to the redhead.

Jon doesn't hear him coming until its too late. Tormund has barrelled into him and knocked him square on his ass. As he’s opening his mouth to complain, he looks up at Tormund, a ‘what have I told you about running into me like that’ poised on his tongue, but it dies off when he sees the ice skates in his hand and the childlike grin on his face.

“Shall we go skating, little crow?” Tormund asks him, mischief lacing his voice. 

Jon eyes the skates dubiously; they're nothing like the ones they had at Winterfell when he was a boy. He used to waste hours gliding around on the frozen river not far from the wolfswood, chasing around Arya and Bran, racing Robb and Theon, watching Sansa spin elegantly. He was by no means the best among them - in fact he would say he was probably the least skilful of the family, save for Theon. Being so out of practice, and with unfamiliar skates he’s hesitant to embarrass himself in front of all the Free Folk, but when he looks back at Tormund’s face, the pure innocent joy in his bright blue eyes, he just can’t say no. 

“But I warn you Tormund, I’m not going to be very good.” he says as the taller man pulls him up and they start heading for the lake. 

“Don’t worry Jon,” Tormund replies, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close, “I’ll keep you on your feet.”

***

Of course, Jon’s worries turn out to come to nothing. As soon as he put on the skates and felt the ice beneath him, he was off, taking to it like a bird to flight, laughing as Tormund struggled to keep up with him. 

“Not very good my ass Jon Snow!” The taller man shouts at him as he darts around the lake, “Where did a southern boy like you learn to skate?” 

“I’m from the North!” He shouts back in retort, laughing like he hasn't in years, “We used to always go skating on the frozen river, maybe an hour from Winterfell.”

He slows down to allow Tormund to catch up to him, breathless from the laughter and exertion of racing about. 

“So why would you tell me you aren’t very good, hmm?” Tormund asks, sidling up next to Jon, taking his hand as they start to skate in sync. “I was hoping to impress you with my skills, show you I'm more than just a pretty face.” he says with a grin. 

Jon smiles at that. 

“I am impressed Tormund,” he replies “You’re relatively agile for a man your size.” 

Tormund shoves him at that, and Jon's bursting into giggles again. 

“I was never the best of my siblings,” Jon continues, moving closer to Tormund again, “After so long I didn't think I’d remember how to do it.”

“I dread to think how good the other were, if you were the worst of them. You move as if born to it, pretty crow.” the taller man says with a sincere smile.

Jon smiles wistfully, reminiscing. 

“You know Sansa used to dance on the ice?” He says. “It was incredible, I was so jealous of how effortless she made it look, meanwhile I was stumbling around like a baby deer!” 

Tormund laughs heartily at the thought. 

“You’re now baby deer now though Jon, perhaps you could dance as she did if you gave it a try.” 

***

That’s how an hour later, snow beginning to fall and the sun beginning to set, Jon and Tormund were still on the ice, twirling and twisting like great ladies at a feast, howling with laughter. 

“Right now little crow, jump into my arms!” Tormund exclaims dramatically. 

“What?” Jon shouts out amongst his chuckles. “Are you mad?”

“Aye, I might well be Jon Snow,” Tormund says seriously, “Now, be a good crow and jump into my arms. I won’t drop you, don’t worry.” 

Fuck it, Jon thinks, and starts barrelling towards Tormund as fast as he can. As he gets close he leaps, throwing himself into Tormund’s open arms, expectantly waiting to be lifted high into the air.

They go crashing down onto the ice like a ton of bricks. 

Jon lifts his head from where it was stuck in Tormund’s shoulder, his body covering the giant man like a blanket, bringing them nose to nose. 

“What happened, to ‘I won’t drop you, don't worry’?” He says in mock accusation, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Fuck off,” Tormund retorts, “You’ve grown heavy, Jon Snow.” and he kisses the smug grin off of Jon’s mouth. 

They lie there on the ice for gods knows how long, snow falling gently around them, the sound of the other Free Folk bustling around in the distance and Jon feels nothing but happiness. No fear, no anxiety, no pain, just unadulterated contentment. 

That is until Tormund rolls him onto his back, their lips still moving against one another passionately, letting out a hum of satisfaction, and Jon’s head smacks against the hard surface of the ice below him. 

“Fuck!” He shouts, pain rippling through his skull. 

“Oh shit,” Tormund breathes out, “Uh... I’m sorry?” he offers. 

Grimacing, Jon replies, “Not your fault. Fuck that hurt. Maybe that’s a sign we should head back now, I’m starting to get cold now that I think about it.” 

Tormund rolls off of him, and he instantly misses his body heat, before pulling him up and heading back towards their tent. Night has now fallen, the only light the campfire that waits for them back by the settlement, and the chill is really starting to set in. Jon wiggles himself into Tormund’s side, shivering, trying to leech some of his warmth. 

“Ah you southerners get cold so easily, never fear pretty crow, I’ll keep you warm.” 

Jon can’t even find it in himself to argue.


End file.
